Star Wars: Dark Angel, Scarlet Dragon Ch. 02

Piett and Rhys were awaiting their arrival in the cell block. Piett nodded. "Lord Vader."

"Is everything in order?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Baroness." Lylla stepped to his side "Prepare her."

"Absolutely, my Lord," she practically sang, and glided through the cell doors.

The cell, glaringly lit, was barely large enough to contain the restraining table and the two stormtroopers guarding the prisoner who was clamped to it. Of course, there really was no need to have them there at all, as there was no possible way for her to escape. But Lylla always had guards present as effective psychological ammunition. The table was deliberately set so the girl's head was perpendicular to the door, ensuring that she couldn't see who was coming in.

Lylla waved off the two stormtroopers guarding her at the foot of the table. "That'll be all, gentlemen. Time for girl talk." As the troopers cleared the cell, she regarded the prisoner as she moved slowly around the table, deftly unhooking the one-shouldered cape of her ensemble and tossing it to the floor.

The girl had been stripped of her clothes down to a once-white tank shirt and underbriefs. She was small-boned, gamine, with long sharp muscles under her tanned skin, toned from her grueling work. White-blond hair was cut into a mechanic's cut to avoid it getting caught in any moving parts. But what piqued Lylla's interest were her hands- small like the girl, but calloused, cracked, nails broken and knuckles scuffed. They fascinated her, as she had never seen a woman with hands like that; pleasure slaves and courtesans hardly worked on heavy machinery. Coming around the other side of the table and pulling one of her gloves off, Lylla bent down, reaching to one of her bound hands, intending to compare it to her soft, slender, perfectly manicured hand-

The girl wrenched up as far as she could off the table and spit right in Lylla's face. "BITCH!" she bit through her teeth.

Lylla stopped, straightened up, and sighed. She pulled her glove back on. "Name-calling and face-spitting already? We haven't even started yet." She meticulously wiped the spittle from under her eye with two fingers. Then she grabbed the girl by the hair with one hand and shoved her two spit-soaked fingers down her throat. "I believe this belongs to you," she hissed into the girl's face. She hit a control on the side of the restraint table with her knee. The table slammed horizontal, and Lylla swung her long leg up and over to straddle her.

The girl violently bucked, trying to fight her off, and bared her teeth. Lylla responded by pushing her fingers down even deeper. "Go ahead. Bite them off. And ignite the photon tissue splicers embedded in this glove's fingertips, which will burn your trachea out of your neck in 1.78 seconds. Or, you can behave yourself." She jabbed her fingers in the girl's throat to drive her point home. "You have three seconds to decide, two, one-" The girl screamed through her blocked throat, fighting to breathe. "Is that a 'yes, I will behave myself, Baroness Sa'thraxxx'?" Lylla crooned. The girl frantically nodded. In no hurry, Lylla pulled her fingers out. The girl quaked underneath her with retching, choking and gasping for air. But Lylla didn't get off her. She just straightened up and straddled the girl's pelvis so her victim could get a full view of her sadistic majesty.

Once the girl caught her breath again, she glared at Lylla. "So," she coughed, her eyes full of poison, "you're real after all. The Harlot Dragon."

A giggle bubbled out of Lylla's throat. "Is that what you Rebels call me? I like it. It's cute." She raised her right index finger and flicked it down. A tiny hyposyringe sprang out of the knuckle of her glove. "I assure you, sweet girl, not only am I real, I am reality itself." With that, stabbed the syringe into the girl's neck.

The girl screamed and flailed underneath her. "OW! What the fuck was that?" she cried.

"Something to make me like you better."

"What?" the girl spat out. "A truth serum?"

Lylla pecked her tongue against her teeth. "You are feisty." She raised her hand and snapped her hand into a claw. Durasteel razor-talons sprang from her fingertips. She liked watching the girl recoil into herself. Lazily, she ran them over the girl's abdomen, tracing little patterns just a hint under her shirt at first, then slowly progressing downwards. The girl writhed under her in disgust. "Why," Lylla asked in a lilting tone, "would we give you a truth serum when we already know you are Tiri Akiro of Torize. We know you and your crew were smuggling ship parts bought on the Correllian black market back to a Rebel cell where you, I assume, would modify them for use on X and Y wing Rebel starfighters. Your cell is located in a speeder repair shop on Eldilir V, 2.5 parsecs from the Tennhausen Gate, a very convenient location for exporting the modified parts to other Rebel outposts. Your contact was a Rhodian called Thaatoo, who is a paid informant for Boba Fett." She tilted her head. "You didn't know that part, did you? Lastly, a troop transport has already dispatched to Eldilir V to kill every single member of your cell and burn the shop to the ground. So, what I'm saying is...no, that wasn't a truth serum."

Lylla enjoyed watching that information dissolve the girl's defiance. The girl swallowed her grief and tears back down hard. "Then why are you keeping me alive? You obviously have everything you need."

"Not everything," Lylla said. She leaned down, placing her hands on either side of the girl's head. "Boba Fett told us something else, something you were bragging about according to him. That you were there, at the Rebel base, during the Battle of Yavin."

The girl slit her eyes, even as she trembled. "So?" Lylla merely smiled, slowly, lazily. The girl snapped, "WHAT? WHAT IS IT YOU WANT?"

"What do I want?" Lylla asked back. Slowly, deliberately, she lowered herself down into the girl's face. She practically chewed her words. "I want to shoot sonic splints under your toenails and then break a toe every time you scream, you fucking Rebel piece of filth." The girl's eyes sprang wide. "Unfortunately," Lylla sighed as she languidly slid off the girl, "this isn't about what I want." She grinned down at the prisoner. "It's about what he wants."

*She's ready.*

The cell door howled open again, then slammed shut. The girl shivered uncontrollably; not just from terror, but because the cell had turned ice cold. Her breath froze in her front of her eyes. She couldn't see, couldn't move, she could only hear. And what she heard confirmed her darkest imagination; heavy, mechanical, labored and utterly unnatural, it filled the room and crushed her ears. It sounded exactly as the stories said. It was the sound of hell breathing.

"She has been quite rude," Lylla said.

And the voice of a black hole. "I am sad to hear it."

Boot steps shook the floor and sent tremors through the restraints of her arms and legs. He stopped just behind her head, still out of her view. She clenched her eyes shut to hold back the tears and thought of her father for what she knew would be the last time. "I will see you again, Da," she whispered through terrified breaths. "I'll see you again someday."

"You will never see him again. Your afterlife does not exist." He came around to the side of the table and into her view.

Images from the holonet in no way prepared the girl for what she saw looming over her. The Dark Lord of the Sith eclipsed the lights and seemed to fill the entire cell. The exhaust from his respirator chilled her skin. A black mountain of machine and man, he was the incarnation of oblivion. When he tipped his mask down to look at her, she looked into the face of murder itself.

That woman came up to the other side of the table, and they stared down at her. It was at that moment when her vision bloomed, edges danced, colors ignited, and she knew whatever that fucking witch stabbed her with had kicked in. She wanted to fight it, but it was impossible. Her last conscious thought was a prayer. 'Please, please let it work. If there is any mercy left in this universe at all, please let it work.'

*You will monitor her vital signs and brain activity while I am inside*, Vader pathed to Lylla. *You know the risks.*

*Yes, I do. But no one ever sedated me for it. Mercy is not one of my strong suits, my Lord.*

*It is not mercy, it is necessity. You are a willing participant. She is not. Without sedation, there is a distinct possibility I will scare her to death.*

*There is that*, Lylla concurred.

*I do not want her dead before we have that name. Path to me only when necessary. Do not break our bond.*

*Yes, my Lord.*

"Stop staring at me," the girl whimpered, completely unaware of their silent conversation, drifting into nothingness, the sight of them killing anything left of her will to survive this. "Just do what you're going to do. Just... just do it."

Vader tipped his helm to her, almost in a bow. "As you wish." She shrieked when his giant hand came down over her face. He put his fingertips on her forehead and leaned down. The girl burst into tears. He moved his fingertips to the side of her face, and cupped her cheek. "Ssshh. Don't cry."

The girl's eyes widened, even as the sedative weighted her eyelids down. Her head spun, her skin flushed. The cell air, frigid just seconds ago, warmed around her. Vader drew his hand from her cheek and gently wiped the tears from her eyes. "Don't be sad, little one." His voice was kind, soft...no, his voice was frightening, it wasn't like this... and it wrapped around her like black silk, soft, safe, and silent. She couldn't hear his breather anymore.

Vader leaned in further, bracing himself with one hand on the table, leaving his other free. He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. "There. Isn't that nice, Tiri? Tiri," he repeated, like he was tasting it. Her stomach jumped in arousal, and she instantly hated herself for it. She felt his fingers on her neck, her throat, down the inside of her arms, caressing her. His touch... she had never felt anything like this before. Like fire without burn, like the breaths of angels. No one had ever touched her like this- certainly not those Rebel throttle-jockeys she sometimes messed around with in the back of the shop...

"They aren't worthy of you, Tiri." Another sob burst from her throat, but was instantly replaced by a gasp of ecstasy. Her eyes rolled back as he traced a feathery line between her breasts. Every place he touched her bloomed with rapture.

"That's my pretty girl." His baritone dropped even lower in his register, his words unrushed. "Let's not fight, Tiri. We can be friends, yes?" His enormous hand encircled her small breast. "Good friends?" He squeezed just a whisper, and ran his thumb over the hardening peak of her nipple. She arched her back, pulling at her restraints. A tortured moan escaped her lips, and her pelvis moved in slow circles.

With one eye monitoring the girl's quickening heart rate and heightened brain activity through her holographic eyepiece, Lylla's other eye was watching the scene. At first, she felt jealousy jolt in her gut. But as she watched, she became engrossed. She now understood what he was doing: Using this woman-child's young urges, her longing for her father, the empty sexual trysts she used to cope with her unrequited love for the pilot, and warping all of it into a means to his end- and feeling nothing as he did it. He would comfort her, seduce her, he would get what he wanted, and then he will kill her. Not that death wasn't the fate of every Rebel prisoner, but this was especially cunning. And ruthless. And brilliant. She realized she had so much more to learn from him. She loved him even more. She didn't think that was possible.

The girl writhed on the table and whimpered. Vader ran his fingers down her stomach, slipping them under her briefs, stopping just a pulse above her mons. The girl cooed again, trying to squirm closer to his hand. He lowered himself further. "Such a healthy girl," he breathed into her ear. She whined with frustration when he drew his hand back up her abdomen. His voice, once hideous, was now dark wine. "You please me, little one."

Her eyes rolled to him, her lids barely open. "I do?"

"Mmmm. Very much."

"Do you hear them?"

"Hear what, my child?"

"The angels. They're singing."

She had arrived to that place in the Dark Side he had been leading her. He allowed himself a satisfied smile under his mask. "Yes, I hear them."

So did Lylla.

Vader stroked the girl's hair. "Tiri, would you like me to remove your restraints?"

"Oh yes, please." He lightly ran his hand over her. The restraining cuffs on her arms and ankles snapped open. Vader slid his arms underneath her and gently lifted her off the table. Cradled like a child, she practically disappeared in his massive arms. "There." he soothed, "isn't that better?"

The girl simpered, her rough and calloused hands curled up like kittens, the Dark Side of the Force erasing the world except for his voice. "Mmm hmm."

"Tiri," he whispered, "tell me about the pilot. The one in your holocom."

Her head in his shoulder, Tiri's face lit into a blissful smile. "Luke."

"Luke," Vader repeated. He paused, and Lylla thought she saw him stiffen for the briefest moment. He continued. "Tell me about Luke."

"Luke is..." She giggled. "Luke is a hero."

"He is?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Why is Luke a hero?"

Her voice was as small as a mouse. "He blew up the Death Star."

Lylla's heart skipped. Vader raised his mask to her. She met his look with barely contained triumph. He returned his attention back to the enervated girl in his arms. "Tiri," Vader breathed, "Luke is here."

She gasped. "He is?"

"Yes. He is very excited to see you. Would you like to see him?"

Her lip trembled. She had wanted this for so long. "Yes, please. Please..."

The arms around her grew warm, and she felt them become thinner and slenderly muscled. She smelled the scent of skin, clean, warm, and male. She felt a warm puff of breath against her lips. "Tiri?"

"Luke?" she whispered. That was him, that was his voice!

"Tiri..." Two soft lips took hers in a kiss that started gently, even a little hesitantly. But the tightening between her legs pushed her to be bold. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a deep hungry kiss, pressing her body against him.

Lylla cocked an eyebrow as she monitored the girl's vitals. Eager little minx, wasn't she? Sitting on her hip on the restraining table, Lylla watched the girl undulate in Vader's arms, moaning, her mouth wide open with pleasure. Vader, however, stood perfectly still as he projected his avatar into the girl's mind...

The youth pulled his lips away, and the girl opened her eyes. There were those eyes, those beautiful crystal-blue eyes, piercing through strands of sun-kissed hair that made her heart accelerate every time she saw them. He stroked her face. "Tiri, I've missed you so much."

"You have?"

"More than you know. So worried about you."

"Luke, gods, I love you," she whimpered, "I wish you loved me too."

"I do, Tiri," he said, stroking her face. "And I'll see you again on Eldilir V."

"You will?" she gasped. "You mean you're coming?"

Lylla noted it. The pilot wasn't on Eldilir V. Damn.

"Yes, remember, I needed my ship fixed? I'm bringing it to you."

The girl's face pinched into a tiny frown. "But... I fixed that, Luke. On Yavin IV, after the battle."

She felt him tense for a moment, but then relax and hold her closer, and softly laughed. "Ok, you caught me. I'm coming back to see you."

"I didn't think you... liked me like that." She peered into those eyes again, and glanced at his blond hair. But... she couldn't make out his face...

"No, I do. I really do." He laughed a little. "I'm just shy. A strong, pretty girl like you, I... just didn't know how to approach you."

Something didn't feel right. "You destroyed the Death Star, Luke. You could have girl you want."

"But I only want one, Tiri. I just want you." He kissed her again, but with much more ferocity. She felt his hands roam over her, slipping under her shirt to caress her breasts. She let out a tiny cry. This is happening, she thought, oh Force, this is actually happening...

Isn't it? Is it...?

He nuzzled her cheek with his. His soft hair brushed against her face. "Tiri," he breathed in her ear, his voice rasped with desire, "say my name."

Name. "What...?"

"I love how it sounds when you say it. Please, say my name, all of it."

Name.

Tic.

Name.

The blue eyes evaporated.

Name.

The word over and over.

Name.

Twitch.

NAME.

The word became the world.

NAME.

Her eyes spun in head.

NAME

Her muscles spasmed

NAME

stiffening her whole body like a cadaver.

NAME

Still in Vader's arms, the girl bolted up, her eyes bulging, and she barked in military manner, "Name: Akiro. Rank: Sergeant, Rebel Alliance Mechanics Corp. Serial number: 673008-7. Name: Akiro. Rank: Sergeant, Rebel Alliance Mechanics Corp. Serial number: 673008-7. Name: Akiro-"

"SHIT!" Lylla hissed. Her voice blared through Vader's mind. *My Lord! Dangerous brain activity, heart rate over 200, blood pressure plummeting. She's been triggered!*

The sudden switch in the girl's mind-state obliterated Vader's concentration. He tore his Force filaments out of the girl's mind. When the girl shrieked and went into convulsions, he threw her back onto the table in disgust. Lylla pushed herself to the girl's side. Another syringe sprang from a housing implanted on her upper arm, and she pulled it out and plunged it into the girl's temple. The girl jerked and spasmed before her body went limp and her head dropped to one side, drool running from her mouth and her eyes wide open.

"What happened!?" Vader roared.

Lylla reran the girl's vital scans across her eyepiece, trying to find an answer and to control her own anger. "I don't know. The electrical activity in her brain just went berserk. Whatever you said tripped something."

Vader recalled that last things he said to her. "Name. I said the word 'name'."

"That was the trigger." Lylla ripped one of gloves off and threw it against the wall. "Fucking Rebels! They've implanted a kill switch!" She began to pace furiously. "Once tripped, the brain goes into catastrophic seizures! She'll just babble her name, rank, and serial number until her brain explodes. Any Rebel we capture now will be unless we crack that programming!" She hit the wall with her fist. "Rebels, fucking REBELS, one step ahead of me! There could be hundreds of words in there! This will take weeks to deprogram, and I'm not sure she'll survive it."

Vader curled his fist as anger and frustration threatened to consume him. "It will not take weeks," he growled as he glared down at the girl. With a frightening speed and violence that even startled self-possessed Lylla, Vader grabbed her by the throat, wrenched her off the restraint table, and slammed her into the ceiling as his voice from the abyss assaulted her already ravaged mind...

*WAKE UP, GIRL*

The girl exploded awake, and the scream of a tortured animal ricocheted through the cell. He jerked her back down to his mask. The breath of hell was back. *You have no rank, you have no name.* She began to seize again, but Vader raised his hand over her face, stabbed the Force back into her brain, and shorted the seizure out. He woke her back to consciousness by throwing her up against the wall. *You do not exist but for one purpose- telling me what I want to know. You cannot die- I will bring you back from the edge of death, again and again. You will know no peace, you will receive no mercy. I want that NAME.* The girl thrashed into another convulsion. Vader clamped his hand on her head and dragged her back.